Suddenly all manner of people accost you, pester you. ‘Guides’, urchins, beggars, hawkers – it’s a free for all. As you shake them off in exasperation and walk on, your nostrils are assailed by the foulest gut-wrenching stink ever possible. The cause of this olfactory offence is two large open drains, lining both sides of the road, filled with black pungent slime that slowly courses along like a gentle stream. You try to run past thinking you will escape its foul embrace but its pursuit is relentless. Soon, the odours of rotting effluvia mix in with the sharp pungency of horse urine. As tongas trot past, the horses disgorge their intestinal contents all over the promenade. This mixes in with vast runnels of camel urine that meander down the road as people are heaved toward the Taj atop the hapless beast – their visit enhanced by the ‘camel experience’. Desperate for some way to make a getaway you try to hail an Agra Tourism ‘battery bus’, crammed with people, sweat pouring down, the sides of the white bus a grimy black. What is supposed to be the start to an unforgettable experience has already turned unpleasant and left you rattled and furious. This, then – the filth, the excrement, the unforgivable stink, the chaos – is the introduction to India’s premier tourist destination.